Times and Clocks
by The Last Leaf
Summary: A collection of little stories about random daily life of vampires.
1. Morning

**Disclaimer**: I do not own VK

**Warnings**: Incest

* * *

_Morning_

* * *

Juuri stirred sleepily, groaning lightly as the glimmer of the orange setting sun flickered over her eyelids uncertainly.

She felt his heavy arm circling her waist possessively and his warm, soft breathing blowing in a rhythmic, calming pattern against the bare sensitive skin where her neck and shoulder connected.

For a moment, she winkled her brows against the comfortable, Rose de ma fragranced pillow, wondering when did he get home yesterday, but then she recalled sometime during her light sleep, she was jerked awake by some stumbling in the room and his hastily muttered apologize when he sensed that he had disturbed her.

Juuri remained against the velvety comfy bed for a while, drinking in the rare moment of tranquil tenderness with the man she loved being so sweetly close to her, but as the gloomy and starry night approached and the light ebbed away, Juuri decided that she must wake up, taking a deep breath, and mentally preparing her lazy body and worn mind for a cool night.

She struggled a bit against the deathly clutch that her husband had around her slim, thinly-clad waist.

He murmured a bit in his dreamless sleep. His dark, silky lockets in a tangled mess dropped gently on the depression where she slept. His handsome, pale face completely relaxed, his red lips glittered alluringly, even if she were to kill him now, it would be until her fanged fingers gripped tightly his heart that he would fully notice the gravity of the situation.

Juuri leaned down and pecked him on the cheek, a greeting's kiss.

He mumbled again, and lifted a sleepy eye at her, tres sexily. She wondered sometime, how heaven could bestow such beautiful man to her, and at the ripe old age of three thousand-and-something( for she had long stopped counting after the first thousand), he could still make her feel quite lightheaded on certain occasions.

A deep, seductive maroon pupil focused on her visage, its dark, crimson pools reflected her joyful smile, and he beamed tenderly, "Morning, love." He reached up to kiss her on the lips, but he missed, instead tickled her on the neck with his stubble chin.

"Morning," she gazed gently at him, fingering the strap of her white, silk, nightgown, pushed him down on the bed. "Go back to sleep." She pressed her fingers against his eyelids.

"But…" her husband pulled her hands off, and pushed it against his soft, sensual lips, worshiping her hands with breathless kisses.

"No," she cooed with a girlish giggle. It was only during those private time she would allow herself to be so juvenile. "You must be tired after speaking with those old men, and coming home so late. I will send someone up to fetch you when I cook breakfast, is that alright?"

"Fine," he closed his eyes obediently, and the lock he had around her fingers slackened.

Juuri pressed her lips against his angelic, weary face, and slipped off the bed.

Glancing back a few times to confirm that her husband is really resting and not getting ready to pounce on her in the bath as he was prone to do, Juuri selected a nice, simple cock robin blue blouse and an elegant white, pleated skirt from cherry wood drawers. She pulled a soft, white towel from the rack and entered the white, marble bathroom, sliding the bolt into place even though she knew fierce locks were not much defense.

The silky and laced white nightgown melted into a silvery pond by her bare, pale feet and she stepped into the steaming shower, just cocking its inviting finger at her.

When she left the bathroom, dripping tresses sprawled around a white towel and donned on a bath robe, her husband was still passed out on the bed.

She walked over, wishing she could run her fingers over his pallid, lean torso, revealed by a unbuttoned shirt, but Juuri held her fingers firmly in her hand and controlled her desire.

She knew he was tired and shouldn't force himself to entertain her on this rare holiday.

Juuri pulled out a chair quietly, and began to dry her dark, curling locks slowly.

Her lash-laced eyes lowered, focusing on taking care of her beautiful hair that he so loved, always burying his face amongst the scented threads when they made love or simply embracing each other, enjoying each other's warmth – a habit he had adopted ever since they were young and could barely pronounce simple words. Her eyes softened at those delightful memories.

Afterward, Juuri changed into her clothing, stepping into the skirt and sliding it up, donning on a shirt and checking in the mirror if she was proper, and with a fleeting gaze at him, she closed the door silently with a muted click.

She strolled over to her lovely daughter's chamber, the cute, little, lively child. Her daughter was nothing like her when she was at such youthful age. She was glad to preserve such innocent nativity in her daughter even though it required them to sacrifice precious things.

Juuri knocked on her daughter's door, and entered.

Her daughter curled into a little cat's position in her pink bed, with her dark hair flaunted out.

Her daughter had taken more after her beloved husband than her physically, but her daughter was still beautiful in her own way, though different from Juuri's delicate exquisiteness, and processed a gentle heart like her father. Juuri believed that it was the greatest gift they have given to Yuki, he beloved, dear daughter.

"Yuki," Juuri whispered sweetly into her daughter's pink ears. "It is time to wake up."

Her eyelids fluttered, but remained stubbornly closed.

"Yuki," Juuri sighed as she combed her daughter's tangled mane absentmindedly with her fingers, "Kaname is coming back today. You must be presentable when you see him right?"

"Brother?" Yuki was jolted awake as she grabbed her mother's arms. "He is coming today?"

"Yes," Juuri smiled a bit at Yuki's cute reaction, "So get ready. Get up and clean yourself."

She watched her daughter jumped off the bed without hesitation, and sprinted for the bathroom.

Juuri walked over and picked a white dress for Yuki to wear that day, and laid it out on the bed.

Then she heard of something crash into pieces on the floor and Yuki's stunned cries. Juuri sighed, massaged her forehead, asked herself who's gene contributed to this unsightly clumsiness since her husband and she were both very bright and intelligent kids… Yuki fell a bit short of the high standard, but at least her cute son…

Juuri shook these thought away and walked into the bathroom to comfort her little daughter.

* * *

Juuri breathed deeply and cracked the egg on the counter, quickly dropping its insides on a frying pan. Its sizzling sounds and delicious smell blasted out of the pan, almost causing Juuri to drop it.

She was still quite new to cooking ever since they had come here to escape from their pureblood duties and spent time as a family with no servants at all. Juuri would handle the chores that she shared with Haruka, those were just manual works that just required a bit of strength, but cooking… cooking was difficult as she stared at the bubbling egg, pondering when to flip it.

"Smells good," her husband suddenly propped his chin on her shoulder, burying his face in her hair and taking a long whiff of it. His lean arms circled around her waist, rubbing her stomach with his palms.

"Your hairs are still wet! Get off me, I actually like this shirt," Juuri resisted a bit, but ultimately gave up as she unsuccessfully flip the egg and its yolk dripped all over the pan. It is now a scrambled egg as Juuri stabbed the food hatefully with a spatula and glared at her husband.

"Now look what you've made me do," she pouted at her failure, and slipped the destroyed egg into a clean plate. She pushed it into his free hand as she turned to wiggle free of his grasp. "You can eat this one," she hissed spitefully into his ears, and cracked open another egg, dropping it into the pan… without adding any oil.

Her husband laughed, and took a fork to sit over at the family table. Taking a bite, he mockingly choked and said, "You are a terrible cook."

She returned his compliment by looking very threatening with a knife, but the hissing of smokes made her scream and the moment was broken by her husband's loud laughter.

But Juuri smiled to herself as her daughter's impatient steps approached, and returned to battle the uncooperative eggs.

It was a beautiful morning.

A/N: When I get tired of writing Angsty, brain-cell eating fic, I got back to writing mindless fluff with no plots.

This short fic was created when I was extremely tired of writing "Kingdom" since it is very difficult to write thanks to my decision early on that I dont want to write just a romance... and "Kingdom" turned out very not romance-y, and I was upset because it would mean that I cant write any mindless, happy brain candy for it.

So I have random cute fics all over my computer because I need to write something lighthearted one in a while. This is pure, pure romance fic... haha, so enjoy!


	2. Evening

**Disclaimer**: I do not own VK

* * *

_Evening_

* * *

When people asked Rima how long have they've been in love, she always replied, we've been together for seven years.

She often emphasized on the _together_ part, because they were, and not on the love part, because they weren't.

On second thought, Rima didn't know if they were in love for said emotion is such intangible and tumulus creature, but if asked for her honest opinion, she begged to differ from the public belief.

As long as she could remember, Shiki had always been there, in a way that when she called his name, he would always turn and look at her expectantly. From their innocent childhood, where he copied her home works out of laziness to do it himself as they shared a desk together, to awkward middle school, where she often found him sleeping in a inconspicuous corner of the library, she would leaned down and poke his brown fluffy hair until he looked up and sent her a disgruntled glance, and now high school, where they spent their days, drifting idly between school and work, there was just seemed to be a kind of invisible web or peculiar magnetic pull that drew them close to each other, intertwining their lives together until in her memory, she could recall more of his presence then lack of him in her life.

However, despite their intimacy, Rima didn't think she loved him. Surely, she liked him, at least fairly enjoyed his company, or else, why would she tolerate his constant existence by her?

But love, love, love…. she didn't think so. She never felt anything particularly strong or passionate, of those fervent hysteria that they often told of in exaggerated tales, nothing even moderately akin for him, not when he was surrounded by exotic beauties( for there were many) or when he performed anything principally sweet (those were far and few in between. He was never quite the romantic). Maybe such quality never truly transpired in her personality.

Rima knew from the beginning that they were to be married. Maybe their engagement or betroth weren't official, but it was their parent's original intention to purposefully yet obviously ways to send them to the same school and operate in the same circle, and the whole noble society already decided for them in their spared time of boredom. They were too close for comfort, and Rima thought they were just too similar, frightfully similar as if they were joined in minds and body, like sickly Siamese, as if they shared the same blood, heart beats that pulsed from him to her, and as if they were of one. She wondered what will happen if she betrays him. Will she feel his pain in her body? Will their relationship came to a stalemate? The image of their connected fetus disturbed her and made her felt slightly nauseated.

* * *

The man who tasted her lips bit on it harshly.

Rima winced at the pain, and felt slightly bored by the vampire's foreplay.

As the man continued to nibble her poor lips, Rima surveyed the surrounding idly.

The garden was full of drunken vampires, inebriated by their own magnificence and beauty. They crawled over to each other in the hydrae bushes and behind the mimosas, enjoying the ripe fruits of canal. Glossy food, courtesy of Aidoh, gleamed, half-eaten on the buffet table, while the beverage table was decimated.

Rima, herself, felt a little tipsy, not enough to affect her judgment fully, but enough to wobble her balance.

She sighed as the vampire finally freed her mouth and targeted her neck. His hand traced down her back, fiddling with the zipper of her dress.

Rima felt a stab of annoyance.

Coming to this party was a mistake. It had been horribly boring and all she did all night was drink wine and as of currently, making out with a vampire, those name escaped her memories. Did he even inform her of his name?

The vampire now attempted to pull the zipper down, and it, fortunately, jammed as he struggled to free her of her garments.

Rima shifted her attention from the pathetic vampire when she sensed his presence.

As she looked up, Shiki strolled toward her with his hand secured in his pockets and an indifferent look that he always wore in his dark blue eyes.

He stopped in front of her, and gazed down at her quietly.

Rima sighed wearily and pushed the vampire off her without much difficulty. He was filthy drunk anyways.

Shiki's lips moved, or tried to move, but no sound came out.

But Rima knew what he was going to say, the bothersome trait of knowing someone for too long.

Rima stood up, took a step, and stumbled. She circled her arm around his neck to avoid an embarrassing moment. She hung on him as her legs failed to support her.

"…Senri," she mumbled in a weak, soft voice in an attempt to evade his wrath that she could taste in his every movement, "Take me home. I am so bored"

He embraced her waist to help her as she leaned on him.

"Let's not fight again, okay?" he uttered softly into her ears.

Rima nodded as she buried her head on his shoulder, drinking his comforting scent.

"Sure."

* * *

Due to demand, I posted this little beauty up. I have several Rima and Shiki fics written before. I like this pairing, but it is just hard to write because I dont see them as being terribly romantic or... talkative at all with each other. It is hard to write romance when the characters themselves aren't that way.

Plus I dislike having OOC characters. I like sticking to canon.

The next fic is probably about Shizuka, _Rainy Season._


	3. Rain

**Disclaimer: **I do not own VK.

_Rain_

She used to like it when it rained.

Maybe because she was trapped and locked in such small room like a dangerous beast or an amusing pet and she could not tell the weather for most days.

But when it rained, the air would be saturated with water, and she could taste the air outside and feel as if she was not in this elaborated cage.

For a moment, she felt free, spreading her wings with the wind.

* * *

She had always been a little bit mad in the true tradition of the Hiou family, they were all always bit funny in the head as she recalled from time to time with an old affection.

Too bad they all went batshit insane in the end.

Sometime she could recall memories of when she used to be innocent… or sane as people would put it…. or sane as she laughed manically.

She thought of it that way, BI and SN, or Before Insanity and _Secundum Nex of Sanitas_— after death of sanity. It was an easy way to organize her thoughts, to slice her days before and after.

But most of the time, she didn't remember anything at all. The longer she was in this cage, the more the concept of time become twisted or warped and finally one day, disappeared from her fuzzy mind and she didn't care anymore.

Her world had shrunk into this little room with a large bed and silk screen, but it didn't matter to her, she couldn't remember what she had lost thus what was the point of mourning after something she didn't even know she had.

Those thoughts became clear in Shizuka's mind and remained the only matters she could grasp firmly after, her true descent into madness.

* * *

She spent most of her days, sleeping, drifting between dreams and reality. But the more she dreamt the most she was convinced that reality was a dream and dream was a reality and they molded into one multicolored monster.

She was quite mad. She could hear those weak voices along the cage's wall, whispering to her how off balance she was and how disgraceful of a pureblood she was.

But she didn't pay much attention to them.

Sometimes, they could open the cage doors, boldly now since she gave up the struggle to be free, and throw in a couple of humans to let her feast on.

She liked humans. She liked the way they thrash about weakly, like a little kitten's play. It was entertaining. Sometime she would keep them alive for a couple of days. She liked the way their blood taste, its slickness against her lips, the satisfaction afterward, and its distracting aroma in the air. She liked the way they would beg her for mercy and bargain with her…. sometime even fight her. She liked the way their eyes looked at her, with such fierce emotions and pure, unfiltered hatred.

Sometime with such intensity, it was almost as she was being loved by them… those white bones that littered her room along with its putrefied muscles. Sometime she could refuse those little pets be cleaned out of her room since she could still feel those cold, dead eyes on her… long after she had eaten them.

After all, they did love her, her little lovely bones.

Maybe if she pressed them close enough to her face, she could feel those lingering warmth between those pale, white bones.

* * *

She hated the way they look at her, accusingly, pitifully.

She didn't need their pity.

She was perfectly content and fine with her bones.

She almost shed a tear when they, against her wishes, cleaned out her precious pets.

* * *

But then _he _came into her world, a poor, small, boxed world, decorated with luxury and sickeningly gold.

It was raining when they pushed him into her cell.

He stumbled against their rude force and fell as she watched him coldly.

He sat up and looked at her evenly, indifferently…. it was odd, opposite of the fierce hatred she had come to known from her food.

He had really pretty eyes. They were cool, and light blue… almost like the sky on a clear sky, she would say, except she didn't know how the sky really appeared on a clear day because she haven't looked at the sky in so long.

But what struck her about his eyes were that they were _dead_ as if his will to live, to fight, to bargain, to beg had completely left him.

He had sandy blond hair. It seemed silky to touch, and fell softly against his cold eyes.

She stared at him and he stared at her.

He waited for her as if he came here willingly to die. He wanted to die. The idea was strange and alien to her. It was unsatisfactory. She liked the struggle part of her meal very much, it added spice to her boring days, and he made her lost her appetite.

She did not like that.

She scrutinized him and noted at the way he didn't not flinch, wince, or even react to her gazes. It was so peculiar.

She parted her lips, her voice hoarse from disuse, "What's your name?"

For the first time, he looked, with an expression other than calm, surprised.

She was surprised too, by the sound of her voice. She hadn't heard it in quite a while.

_Hello voice, nice to use you again,_ she mused in her mind.

"It doesn't matter," he said.

She liked his voice. It was soft and quiet. It was weightless as if he had given up all strength stored inside his body, different from those harsh voices she heard in her dreams.

"Then what should I address you by?"

"Do you always talk to your food before you eat them?" he sounded impatient.

"Not really. But I want to know your name."

"Call me anything you want." He shrugged carelessly.

"You don't have a name?" she frowned. She thought all humans have those silly things they identify themselves as.

"No," he hesitated, "Not really."

He was lying to her. She could tell by the way his breathes changed and how his eyes darted.

Humans have always been predicable creatures.

"What do you want me to call you then?" she repeated her question, as a sudden flood of interest came to her and she felt for the first time in hundreds of years, excited.

"Anything you want," he wrinkled his brow in impatience.

"Oh," she stared at him. She stood up and with a finger, tilted his face toward her, studying his features which didn't strike her as beautiful, but not necessarily ugly either. It was pleasing to the eye.

He closed his eyes immediately as if her mouth had started tracing the lines of his jaw, ready to bite into his jugular.

But she didn't. She studied his features like a queen inspecting her subjects, then dropped her fingers.

He simply stared at her.

She stretched languidly, and sat down on her large bed.

She could still feel his eyes on her, just like her bones, her lovely, lovely bones.

* * *

"How old are you?" she asked him as she laid in her bed and he still sat where she last left him the night before. He really wanted to die, didn't he?

"Why don't you kill me?" he didn't answer her questions.

Her lips thinned in annoyance.

"I am not hungry," she said carelessly, fingering her long locks. Her red lips curved, "And you entertain me."

"I do?"

"You brought scents of rain into my world," her words drifted as she fell into her colorless dreams.

"Why do you want to die?" she sat up lazily, propped up her body with an arm.

"I have no reason to live," he answered, lowering his eyes.

"I have no reason to live, yet I am still here. I want to know why you don't want to be here," she countered.

He didn't reply for a long time. She met his eyes calmly, waiting for him.

His lips parted, and his composed voice cracked, "The person I love… died."

"Who?"

"The person I love."

"So you want to go join her in the afterlife?" she asked, interested, as if she were toying with some immature, amusing idea.

"I don't know," he regained his cool as if that lost of will didn't batter him.

"Why?"

"I don't think we would end up in the same place."

"Why?"

"Because…he is going to hell."

"And you are going to heaven?" she chuckled lightly.

"No I am going to go to hell too," he smiled, "But we will miss each other like we always do."

Shizuka wrinkled her brows, "You humans are so strange. So rely on such odd beliefs of afterlife."

"And you vampires don't?" he asked.

"Vampires don't have afterlives," she laughed coldly. "We…" she hissed, "don't deserve one."

"I see," he nodded.

"Can't you tell?" she gestured the room, "Can't you tell how stained this room is? Can't you hear the walls moan? Can't you smell the stench of blood? Our existence is built on bloody corpses and destroyed souls. Even when I close my eyes, I could hear their wails in the air."

"You…" he gazed at her, quite bewildered.

She closed in on him until her lips touched the curve of his ear, "Do you want to know a secret?"

She didn't wait for him to answer, and murmured seductively into his ear, "We, vampires, don't have a soul."

* * *

"Did you know that they called me the Madly Blooming Princess?" she said suddenly one day, slipping her kimono off her white, smooth shoulder, preparing to change into the new silk yukata they have brought to her. Summer season was near.

"No, I was only told that it would be a quick death," he replied, lowered his eyes away from her pale body.

"They call me that," her crimson pupils grazed over like ice frozen over pools of blood, "Because I make flowers blossom out of season, but as soon as I leave, flowers wilt immediately. They used their whole life energy to bloom in that one moment I am there."

"Isn't that sad? To leave a trail of death at your feet?" he asked her softly.

She crackled madly and said, fixing the last wrinkles of the white yukata, "It was a wise decision not to eat you."

* * *

"Rain… was it raining when you came?" she stared into the depth of darkness that lined area beyond the metal bounds.

"Yes."

"Was it a beautiful rain, like it pours down and it looks like silvery petals or soft, illuminating mists?"

"I don't know. I wasn't paying attention," he sighed. He was getting used to her eccentricity and her odd questions.

"Yes, you were looking forward to your death," she said animatedly, as if it was the first time she realized it, and laughed endlessly as if there was nothing funnier than his will to die.

Sometime he felt like he was speaking to a child, a demonic child nevertheless.

"I used to live outside," her eyes were fuzzy, swirling, confused jewels of crimson as if she weren't really talking to him, as if he was just someone who happened to be there when she spoke.

"Then?" he sighed because he knew that was the proper answer.

"I woke up one day and I am here," she sounded so drunk with those memories. "I circled and walked, but I couldn't find my way outside again. Walls were springing up everywhere and I can't find the exit."

"There is a door with a lock," he eyed the cage. On one side this is a perfectly luxurious oriental room, but on the other side, this was just an elaborate cage for a beautiful beast.

"I can't find it… there is nothing here…" her voice faded away, a pallid arm reached out, but she stumbled and crashed onto the soft cushions of her bed, and he found that she fell asleep.

* * *

"Don't you get hungry?" he asked curiously. He didn't know how long he had been here since he could not see outside and he could not measure time with the lack of devices.

"I could repress my lust. Don't worry. I have no intention to eat you yet," she reassured him firmly. "Do you wish to die?"

"I don't know."

"Have you found a purpose to live?" she said with interested, glittering eyes.

"You forced on me one," he said.

"What?" That was an answer she didn't expect.

He looked at her lightly, but there was something there that she hadn't noted before.

"You are lonely, aren't you? That's why you didn't eat me. So I can stay here and keep you company," he told her softly, with a hint of gentleness.

"Don't you hate me?" she stammered. Her eyes widened at his inexplicable words. "I didn't kill you."

He shrugged carelessly. "I don't want to die as strongly anymore."

"Why?" The desire had been so strong and delicious before.

"I found a purpose," he stared at her as if she dropped a few notches in intelligence.

"How about the person you love?"

"I don't know," he lowered his eyes and ran fingers through his blond hair. "I think… he would have wanted me to live."

"Then he is not very smart," she remarked.

He gawked at her momentarily and chuckled. It was the first time he had expressed content in her presence, and she couldn't help but realizing that he looked quite beautiful happy. The way his eyes, lips, and features lightened up, making his ordinary face quite extraordinary. "Why is that?"

"If I love someone then I would not let him go, even in death. If I was to die, I will kill him, and eat him before so that in his life, he could only love me and no one else. In his life, he can only have me."

"That's selfish," he said with subtle eyes. "How can you call it love when it is so selfish?"

"If it is selfish, then is it not love?" she rebuked sharply. "Who are you to determine what is and is not love?"

He looked surprised for a moment, and then his mouth slid into a graceful smile. "That's true." He agreed. "You've convinced me. Love… is more than what I've known of it."

* * *

That pureblood came to see her one day out of many days he remained absent from her sight, and looked oddly at her little human with his sinister multicolored eyes.

She did not like the way his hungry eyes ran over his body… or hers.

She ducked in front of her human and demanded what was his business here.

He leaned over. She could barely contain her flinch. She did not like him. The one they called her his.

He took a deep whiff of her scent, and whispered into her ear, "I just wanted to see my lovely fiancée."

After he left, she collapsed onto the ground, trembling lightly.

No, certainly not out of fear, but out of anger.

She despised him, absolutely despised him, yet she could not do anything to him. She could glare at him spitefully, but his power equaled hers… she could not kill him. Shame.

Her human came up to her, worriedly asking her, "What was wrong?"

He attempted to help her to her bed and kept saying how she would get a cold on the floor.

It was silly.

She was a pureblood and she couldn't be fallen under the curse of the ailment common to human.

Yet she felt no need to point this out to him… she liked it. For unknown reasons, she liked it when he fussed over her, telling her how she couldn't do things.

It was interesting, and made her feel lightly warmer…

* * *

That pureblood told her once how to make something hers forever, no, not told her. He was making a tasteless remark during those odd days of visits when he remembered that he had a fiancée and wanted to toy with her.

That pureblood liked her very much because she defied him while others obeyed him.

But she remembered his careless comment about how to make someone obey, to make someone hers, to attach his life to her forever.

She wanted to bind him to her.

No matter how rude or unpleasant it was.

She wanted him.

She wanted him very much.

No matter how much he will hate her for it later, no matter if he will never look at her gently again, no matter if what made him him will disappear.

She just wanted him to herself for forever.

So she beckoned him to her.

And he came, innocent, trustful like a homeless puppy.

He looked at her gently and calmly, "Yes?"

She licked her lips and closed in on him. Her fingers on iron- grip on his thin wrist.

He looked quite puzzled at her oddness.

Her breath brushed by his cheek and he looked quite flushed.

"What's…" he started dryly, but never finished his sentence, because at that moment, her sharp fangs sank harshly into his pure flesh.

Redness filled her mouth, satisfying like wet, delicious sand.

She took large hungry gulps, lapping the blood that had never tasted so lovely, so enchanting. She wondered why she didn't eat him before.

Then she remembered her intention, and held herself back.

She didn't want to kill him, but she needed to drain enough from him so that he will not die.

She retracted her blood-stained lips unwillingly.

He had passed out in her arms from shock or loss of blood, she didn't know.

His blood dribbled down her chin and dotted red-petal flowers on her white yukata, blooming furiously and violently.

She bit her forefinger and watched the blood seeping out of the wound.

She lowered her finger and allowed her precious pureblood blood to drip into his parted mouth.

Then she sat down and waited patiently.

**A/N:** There is actually another two parts to the story: _Sunrises _and _Sunsets_. This story was called Rainy Season for a while, but then I changed it at a suggestion that it will sound better if I just call it _Rain_.

But I really adore Shizuka (if you haven't guessed it yet!) and her manslave. I think they have a fairly interesting relationship!

I have totally forgot that I meant to update this a while back! Sorry!


	4. Sunrises

Sunrises

Disclaimer: I don't own VK.

* * *

When he lifted weary eyes after the transformation, he jumped up quickly and asked croakily, "What have you done to me?"

It was the angry, accusatory tone that made her wish she had never done it.

But she kept her pose and simply replied, "I turned you into me."

It took a moment to sink in. He gazed at her and his pupils dilated when he realized the meaning of her words.

"I am… a vampire?" he murmured weakly and crumpled back.

"Yes," she nodded, relieved that he wasn't more angered.

"Why? he asked softly, "Why did you do this? Wasn't it enough?"

She gave him and odd look and said, "It is never enough. I want eternity."

He laughed, almost bitterly. It was a strange laughter that haunted her dreams in later days.

"Don't you understand, Shizuka?" It was the first time he addressed her by her name. "You can never have anything for eternity. Especially," he continued through gritted teeth, "not me."

* * *

I feel bad for neglecting my fics. I do.

I have more time to write recently, but it is difficult to fall into that pattern again. College have crippled me!!

Anyways, thanks for those who supports me. It is sincerely heart-felt.


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